


Pepper

by Pararose



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Established Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, Making Out, Summer, kind of, you knew that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 19:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17903723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pararose/pseuds/Pararose
Summary: Will is a good kisser. Mike tries to keep up.





	Pepper

“Ready?”

 

Four days ago, if you would’ve told Mike that he was about to do what he’s about to do, unmistakably, without a shadow of a regular sized doubt, his reaction probably would be predictable. In perfect reality he’d just stand there, awkward and massively wishing he wasn’t there, like he’d just opened a gift that he’s embarrassed about getting.

 

However, it isn’t four days earlier, and it’s not some odd time in the late to near future - to add to Mike’s trembles, it’s right now, on Will’s bedroom floor, when he’s in old summer clothes and is irritatingly close to sweating out of his skin because it’s really hot and it feels like he just ran two miles. You can expect that his heart getting ready to roll over and die, and it is. But it has to perform a few magic tricks first, and then go out with a bang. Literally.

 

He wishes, just then, that Will would quit looking at him like that. He wishes that Will would take a stand and decide that suddenly, perhaps, he doesn’t want to do this anymore. Mike would have no problem agreeing.

 

He thinks it would save him for a couple more years, or for the day, or until the next time something like this pops up. Something that is such a significantly new and nerve-wracking thing that upon existence, would instantly kill him on sight, like when you clap a menacing gnat in between your hands. That would be him. Done. Over with. Just like that.

 

But...then again, Mike wants to do it. Badly. He really does.

 

Maybe that’s why it would kill him.

 

“Yeah,” Mike says, steadily, despite the frantic shrillness that is residing inside, his voice lowered to avoid contrasting with the closeness between him and Will. “Go ahead.” He whispers, envisioning the kiss, his mind soaking it up like a sponge. By the way, that's what this is about.

 

Mike is nowhere near ready, that's not up for debate, but he guesses that he never will be and he clearly doesn’t have the time to patiently wait and find out.

 

He goes sort of rigid, and his airways get ridiculously tight when he sees the tip of Will’s tongue dart out swiftly and lick a dry spot on his bottom lip. No turning back now.

 

Their sitting positions make it easy to get close. Mike doesn’t know if he’s grateful for that, or if he’s not alright with how uneasy it makes him, as it leaves hardly any kind of window for him to prepare himself in even the slightest way before it happens.

 

Okay. Mike swallows. It's not his first kiss - _it's not his first kiss._ He needs to let that sink in. It's not like he doesn't know what to do. He does, there would be a problem if he didn’t, but, it's just - something touches him, and Mike snaps back into his body, sharply collecting himself as Will advances, placing his hand on the floor behind Mike’s hip, slotting an arm through the gap that’s between Mike’s own arm and his side. The inside of Will’s elbow brushes the fabric of Mike’s shirt. That’s what is was. And Mike gets jitters - hard core jitters.

 

Mike sighs out the remaining air that was in his lungs, a mistake, and his shoulders fall a little. If he doesn’t go up in flames when their foreheads touch just the smallest bit, that’s a record. He absentmindedly leans back slightly as Will advances, an instinct that he forgot to shut off.

 

Mike has never felt Will's hair before. Thoroughly. Every once in a while when they hug it'll brush the side of his face or something, but that's it. He doesn’t know why the first time he does feel it is with the skin in between his eyebrows. If he ignores the weirdness of that whole scenario, it actually seems to heighten the experience.

 

As of a while, Will doesn’t have the bangs he did to when they were kids, they have changed, they’re thinner. And they're not really normal bangs, but just, Mike doesn't know, pushed to the side? Or up and over? What are bangs anyway? He’s picturing them, Will’s, and they look nice. That’s all that matters. A piece of it must’ve fallen when Will was repositioning himself, and it’s...formless, now that he can’t see it, delicate, and undeniably soft. Too soft. Mike's hair isn't like that. Well, Mike's isn't exactly wirey or tangly, but Will's is so angelic it is degrading. Mike is over exaggerating but still.

 

Other than that. Um. The view is great too.

 

If you’re human, when you look at objects from a short distance, they can be hard to distinguish, very blurry, or hurt your eyes, but that’s not the case here.

 

Will's face is offering him detail after detail, and it's too overwhelming for Mike to take in at once. That's good, because he doesn't want to. No, he wants to see everything and spend time on it all individually. Like Will’s eyelashes, for example, they are a darker color than his hair, which is similar to a feathery brown.

 

Oh, and Will is blushing, just like Mike, a tint that is almost persistently drawing attention to itself, like it wants to be sought out and dwindled on.

 

Under those eyes, the faded lavender discoloration left by troubled mistreating sleep has never looked more wonderful. 

 

Who knew Mike could form a thing for _eye bags._  

 

He follows the slope of Will's nose, claiming some faded sun-freckles that have lasted since childhood summers, and his gaze settles calmly in the place between his nose and his mouth. Mike understands that his lips are more chapped than Will's seem to be, but that is the least of his worries. His stomach is throwing a party. Not a Hawkins party, but a full blown rager.

 

And why… Mike's eyes droop just a smidge, heart skipping a beat.

 

His mind goes blank.

 

Why hasn't Will kissed him yet?

 

That's what he's waiting on, isn't it? Three seconds ago Mike was hassling himself about being nervous for this, about having his first kiss with Will, and now he's got this new cup of impatience in his hand that he's sipping from, and sipping, and -

 

“What?” Mike asks, quietly, trying not to let his pinch of anxiety get into his tone. 

 

A plume of air fans his chin. “I don't think I can do it.”

 

Mike's throat closes up.

 

“Why not?”

 

Will's blush intensifies, if that's possible, and Mike nearly ruffles. The tips of their noses bump. His eyes shut all the way, and Mike can tell that he's embarrassed.

 

Softly, as if he genuinely can't tell that the anticipation is physically hurting Mike, “I don't know. I just don't want to screw it up.” He pauses. “What if I bite you or something?”

 

Mike's breath initially hollows out, and his lungs all of a sudden resemble his old camping tents that he guesses are back stowed away in the garage somewhere. They are liable to collapse at anytime, no matter what. Mike bites the bullet and inhales anyway.

 

“I thought that's why we agreed you would do it though - because _I'd_ screw it up?”

 

Will eyes remain safely closed. Mike glances down.

 

Gingerly, he lays a hand on Will's shoulder to neck transition-area and feels his muscles react in miniature spasms under his shirt. That could just be him, though. “You won't bite me.” He says. “If anything _I'll_ bite _you_.”

 

On any other occasion all of this invasion of personal space would jostle him. It might’ve made him uncomfortable, especially in eighty degree weather. But Mike's body isn't behaving normally in this moment. It's a lost cause.

 

When he's got his confidence up and running again, he brings his hand up to the side of Will's face and lightly touches his thumb to his cheekbone. Is it wrong that Will’s skin his just the right temperature? His pinky hides under his jaw.

 

Carefully, he says, “Kiss me.”

 

Mike's mouth pauses after it speaks the final syllable, parted and vulnerable.

 

Will inhales, taking the air that Mike wanted. And needed. He decides that's okay. Will can have whatever he wants.

 

On the spot, Mike's last thought inevitably gets snipped off and ended like a strand of hair. It evaporates into nothing but empty particles. His eyes blink closed.

 

Will aims for his bottom lip, meaningfully but gently targeting the supple surface. He presses, and it feels so _there_.

 

Instead of catapulting into oblivion, he...doesn't do much. Nothing happens. Nothing changes.

 

And then;

 

Mike can't comprehend that he's getting to kiss Will. Well, he can't really comprehend anything, he doesn't know if he wants to, but if he can't wrap his head around something, it's that by a mile.

 

It's not a long kiss. Mike has little opportunity to kiss him back, which isn't totally what he would've settled for, as he'd like to do that, to hopefully make _Will_ not be able to comprehend anything for a couple seconds. But. Their first kiss is more of Will kissing Mike, and then pulling away, than them both kissing each other.

 

Mike opens his eyes, his heart tunneling itself into his temples.

 

Will looks at him, barely an inch away, and their eyes meet as if they were programmed to do so. Will's eyes are hazy and - somehow clear. He stares back at Mike, testing and searching keenly for any form of discontentment on Mike’s part. He's checking to see if he's done something wrong. Mike gives him nothing.

 

Mike watches his throat flex just a bit, as if he’s inhaling, and it seems like he might speak. Before he has the chance, this time, Mike moves in, finally taking his turn, and his stomach makes a break for it and doesn’t come back.

 

Their lips fit together again, and, immediately, but not regretfully, he thinks he should have waited to hear what Will was going to say. It could have been important. Will might’ve wanted the kissing to be a one time thing. This shouldn’t be going through his head right now. But it’s possible, right? That makes Mike feel kind of selfish for jumping back in so fast without an _okay_. Even if he wanted to, maybe he should have given Will a warning.

 

See, Mike’s in unexplored territory, he hasn't been instructed on what’s he’s supposed to do (not that he needs to be). And he hasn't been reassured on what he’s allowed to do. It also doesn't help that he's becoming more and more gradually familiar with what he _wants_ to do.

 

Until there’s a response from the other end. It never was taut, just hardly delayed. Still placid, Will is slow - not necessarily hesitant or mere, but attentive, like he’s concentrating. It’s nice. Really nice. Mike presses back, trying to mimic Wills antic. But all of this is brand new. Well, kissing isn’t totally new, he's done that, and the person that he’s kissing isn’t new either, but the combination is what’s giving him a sense of blindness that he wasn’t aware would come with this. And, for the record, he doesn’t want to blame it all on the blatant fact that he’s never kissed a boy before. His absent stomach has no business flaring up when that thought accumulates, as he is in fact currently in the literal process of doing just that.

 

And there’s more to it. Plenty. He hasn’t completely faced it yet. Mentally.

 

He’s not positive on where he should put his hands, or where he should touch - where is okay to touch. Where will wants him to touch. One part of that tentativeness is coming straight from Mike’s radiating source of constant awkwardness and shyness that somehow has strangely failed to deter Will from wanting to do this with him.

 

Will, on the other hand, obviously isn’t having as much, if any issues with that topic. Mike flushes deeper as he feels fingertips play easily against his neck, and Will brushes his thumb across the start of Mike’s jaw, resting it there.

 

He does not shiver when the kiss breaks for a single second, a brief intermission, as they say on tv or whatever, and definitely not when Will breathes warmly against his mouth, staying still, staying close, staying present, going nowhere. _Uh uh_.

 

He does not shiver when both of them go in that time, suddenly introducing a new breed of force, their own, steady but cautious, as if they had stage fright at first, and now it's dissipating. Trying to be comfortable, but also unknowingly giving in to the firmness that's fighting it's way into the kiss (kisses) as it is accepted and repeated, instead of rejected.

 

And he does not (does) shiver when he gets the immensely confident urge to welcome his tongue into this - yeah, right before his heart drops thirty stories from the top of a building, and lands, as he feels _Will's_ tongue meet the very sensitive inside of his bottom lip.

 

Mike's brain short circuits, and the light bulb inside it straight up bursts, given too much electricity.

 

Leaving out his brain and mind, that, by the way, needs to get with it, his body ironically seems to stay on course. _Why?_ He'd like to know too.

 

Mike loosens his jaw a little and opens his mouth just a degree wider, more than enough for him to engage himself in what their kiss is becoming. Warmth spreads through him like wildfire, fitting into every part of him and making its place, raging in certain spots (let's steer clear of that for now).

 

A familiar flavor of soda hits Mike’s taste buds, and...that is entirely new.

 

Mike’s hand goes for Will’s hip, not completely gripping, but placing itself hastily and pulling Will closer, or silently telling him that he wants him to be closer. Will’s breath hitches, and Mike's throat swells.

 

Will deepens the kiss, surging forward a bit, and within a few seconds, besides his own of course, Mike has found out what another person's teeth are like, the texture - what they feel like, how smooth they are and how much he likes them. They are warmed to the temperature of Will's mouth, which is around the same as Mike's now, and coated in a thin layer of saliva.

 

Will’s always had very straight teeth. Mike is used to just _looking_ at them.

 

To his enjoyment, when that kiss ends, a new one starts, initiated by either alike. This goes on and on, and Mike lets it, with little to no hesitation that it’s questionable.

 

He lets his heart turn his ribcage to literal pulp, he lets his cheeks burn clear off, flushed and hot, he lets his skin tingle and cover itself in goosebumps while Will's fingers eventually get antsy and slip down from their place on his neck to wind over his chest and claim his side, another bold move. Even with the layer of his shirt in the way, Mike is like, hypersensitive, or something.

 

And he lets it escalate, yes, but neither of them are exactly aware of what they are doing.

 

Mike lets Will nudge him on his back, his shoulder blades gently pressing against the carpet floor, and he lets him kiss him again, on the lips, of course - with tongue, because that's what they're doing now, without worrying that either of them is going to mess it up.

 

Will restores the closeness, a hair reserved, meanfully holding back his weight and keeping himself up by his forearms, but Mike still melts. His muscles become pudding on his bones and he slumps, as if he's been drugged, but he's holding on, he’s not fully out yet. His legs splay open, giving Will more room.

 

Mike starts to sigh some of the air out of his chest, he needs to, it’s been in there for a while, but he quits that as soon as it begins because that's _not_ a normal sigh. His face reddens, well, reddens more, and he prays Will didn’t pick up on it.

 

Following his luck, though, he feels Will smile, and he has to try really hard not to continue kissing him. It's a battle.

 

He adjusts his tongue in his mouth in order to talk. He's found that it unexpectedly has a lot more than the known purposes, and he's getting in the swing of converting it over from one use to the next.

  
His voice comes out uneven. It sounds as if there's a feigning rest on it, a soft weight, like the back of his throat is bigger than it should be. “What's so funny?”

 

Will's eyes open and he blinks them clear. He looks at Mike, wondering why he's stopped.

 

Will mumbles, lowly, “Nothing.” But he’s a bit far from serious. His expression says _you_.

 

Mike closes his mouth, peering up at him through his eyelashes.

 

Will looks happy. Not like...not like the same kind of happy that Mike has watched him get when he showcases his A-minus on the very top of paper he had trouble with, or same kind of happy that Will gets when one of his favorite songs comes on. It's different. Mike's never seen it. Not from this angle, not from this point of view, not ever. It's a new discovery. The rosy cheeks and swollen lips, accompanied by the slight drooping of his eyelids, with barely an ounce of embarrassment bleeding into his features.

 

Did Mike cause this?

 

 _No_. He couldn’t have.

  
Would it be a bad thing if he did?

  
_No._

  
Mike wonders if he looks like that right now. If he does, the confident part of him hopes Will can tell.

  
Will kisses him another time, and he still isn’t ready, but he’ll get used to it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. 
> 
> tell me what you think?


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